


Mirrors I thru V

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-30
Updated: 1999-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-20 10:52:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11334261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: How Mulder gets attracted to Krycek.





	Mirrors I thru V

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Mirrors I: The Shower by Lone Gungirl

TITLE: Mirrors I - The Shower  
AUTHOR: Lone Gungirl  
E-MAIL:   
RATING: PG  
CATEGORY: Story, slight Angst  
KEYWORDS: M/K Slash  
SPOILERS: Not really.  
ARCHIVE: Anywhere, as long as all headers are intact.  
SUMMARY: How Mulder gets attracted to Krycek.  
DISCLAIMER: Carter and Murdoch may be pricks, but not idiots. Only total morons would sue their own customers and restrain free propaganda for their show. And if I would get any money for this I'd send it to Anderson to adapt her salary to Duchovny's.  
NOTE: This is the first fanfic I've ever written. If not for my slasher friend Araxdelan, who encouraged me to start writing, I would never have dared to try a story of my own. Big hugs! Araxdelan has a great slash site at http://www.members.tripod.com/Araxdelan/. There's also the rest of my series.

* * *

THE SHOWER

It happened one day, after he had left the FBI's swimming-pool. The other swimmers were already gone and he hoped to use the showers in peace and quiet. But, when he padded towards the showerbooths, someone else was still there. Thinking that a single person wouldn't make much of a difference anyway, Mulder stepped in one of the free booths and reached to turn on the water.

That was when he heard the noises the other guy made. "Fine", Mulder thought. Not even in the shower could he relax and get lost in his own thoughts. He decided to give a few loud coughs, so this idiot would notice he wasn't alone anymore and shut up.

But something made him hesitate. The sounds from that fellow were really strange. Loud, pounding exhaling. Rasp sighs. And the hoarse barks of a wild dog. So Mulder carefully stepped to the other man's showerbooth and peeked in.

And then he saw him. His partner. Alex Krycek. In a way he had never seen him before. With his head tilted back, his mouth open and his eyes closed he stood in the spray, his hands clutched against the wall. He seemed to be totally absorbed in the feeling of hot water streaming down his body. His chest heaved and his abs flexed with every feral cry he gave.

Mulder could hardly believe it. His uptight partner, a picture of pure sensuality. He had always thought that this man, with his square hair-style and his fussy behavior, was a hopeless geek. But the tasteless coiffure was now washed away, and a completely different Krycek was revealed. One who devoted himself to the pleasure of a warm shower in a way others did not even give to a sexual act.

But maybe it was not pleasure. Maybe it was pain that made Krycek pant, with his forehead now leaned on the tiled wall. Mulder recalled the times when he was suffering himself. Though he mostly succeeded suppressing his anguish, the hot stream of water rinsed away the inner fences and he cried out loud. Of course not in public. And never at his workplace. Just Krycek did. Like an animal, driven by instincts.

Brushing his hair back, Krycek shifted position and strangled a scream. His front and side were now exposed to Mulder. And Mulder realized something else he hadn't noticed before. Alex Krycek was a handsome man. He had a perfect figure and his belly was totally flat. Tight muscles were outlined under nearly hairless skin. Broad shoulders. Long legs, wiry and hard. Krycek turned around. Firm, well-defined ass. Skinny, muscular back. Krycek moved again. Thick, long and dark eyelashes. A penis like carved marble.

Mulder suddenly became aware that he was staring at his naked partner and would be caught in the act if Krycek opened his eyes. So he slipped back into his own showerbooth, peeled off his speedos and turned on the water. Usually he turned his gaze away when other men were nude. He found them ugly. But Krycek wasn't ugly. Krycek was...

Lathering up himself, he looked at his own body and pondered if it's appearance could compete with Krycek's. In general, he was satisfied with himself. His nose was too big, he knew that, but Krycek's monkey-suits made up for it.

Mulder couldn't understand it. Why did this guy dress so unbecoming? And perform such a conservative attitude? Twenty minutes ago he would have answered "Because he is a nerd". But not after that display of intense emotions.

For the rest of the day Mulder kept thinking about Krycek. Either the man had a dual personality, or he had something to hide, and in that case certainly heavier things than the usual hypocrites. But what? And maybe -and this thought shocked him, so he knew it was true- Krycek was just a mirror of himself. Outwardly conforming to the social norms, but carrying the abyss within.

Suddenly Krycek was someone he could relate to. Someone who could become his friend, who could get close to him. Someone whom he could trust and who could join him in his fight. Someone who could become a dear friend. Suddenly that all was possible.As Mulder went to sleep, he had a warm feeling for the other man.Something in the pit of his belly decided to trust Alex Krycek and open himself up. No more need to brood over any of his new partner's dark secrets.He was certain the man would show them to him. Someday, when the time was right.

Not long after this instinctive decision Mulder indeed knew what Krycek had hidden. He was left betrayed. He never thought a man could hurt him so much.

The End

 

* * *

 

TITLE: Mirrors II - The Bedroom  
AUTHOR: Lone Gungirl  
E-MAIL: Feedback welcome!  
RATING: PG (Erotic situation and two times the f-word.)  
CATEGORY: Story, slight Angst  
KEYWORDS: M/K Slash  
SPOILERS: none  
ARCHIVE: Anywhere, as long as all headers are intact.  
SUMMARY: How Krycek gets attracted to Mulder.  
DISCLAIMER: I don't think Carter will have time to drag me to court as long as a sexual harassment lawsuit is clinging to his own ass. Who would have thought a feminist slut like me could benefit from a guy's misogyny? For Murdoch, I'm sure he'll wait to massacre us until he owns the whole internet.  
NOTE: Special thanks and a bear hug to my friend Araxdelan for support, beta, computer help and the page on her slashsite.  
(http://www.members.tripod.com/Araxdelan/)

* * *

THE BEDROOM

It happened after he had broken into Mulder's apartment. His boss had ordered him to snoop around and check out the computer. Mulder was on his Sunday morning jog, so he wouldn't return for at least one hour. After about 40 minutes Krycek hadn't found anything interesting, except for Mulder's Braindead video and a newsgroup about The Simpsons. But there was the bedroom left.

Although as Krycek started to look over the files on and around the bed, he heard Mulder unlock the door. "Crap!" Krycek thought. Not only was his partner overreacting to his ugly disguise and treating him like a sap, he also turned out to be unreliable. There was nothing left except hiding in a corner behind the closet and hoping the guy would get lost in the bathroom, so there'd be a chance to sneak out. 

Mulder on his part ignored the bathroom. Leaving a trail of sweaty clothes behind him, he went into the bedroom, where he flopped himself on the bed. He sighed deeply, lifted one knee, put one hand under his head and stared at the ceiling. 

Krycek had never seen him like this before. His usually restless and driven partner was now lying completely still, except for the gentle rise and fall of his chest. His face was blank and sad, the mischievous sparkle gone. It seemed that not just his skin was bare, but also his soul. 

As if Krycek hadn't already been surprised enough by the complexity of Mulder's character. As friendly and compassionate he usually was, no one was save from his cynical comments either. Although gifted with a brilliant head, he could be incredibly stupid when it came to his own safety. And confronted with injustice, the warm-hearted man could develop an aggressive rage that was stunning.

Mulder's body reflected these contradictions. He was tall, athletic and strong, but in a lean, non-bulky way. The outline of his hard muscles were smoothed by soft skin. The triangle of feather-light hair on his chest and his hirsute legs and forearms would have given him a coarse expression, if not for his delicate throat and fine hands and feet. His large penis peacefully rested in the hollow of his flank.

Krycek wondered if his own body looked that good. What he hated about himself was his chin and jawline, which, in his opinion, spoiled his appearance. He started to seek a comparable disfigurement on Mulder. Maybe the guy was too hairy? No, not true. His nose was big, but it didn't disturb the general impression. And with regard to a certain saying in Mulder's case the nose was only a hint at the size of his sex organs.

Not that Krycek thought men with voluminous genitalia were pretty. Quite the contrary. In his point of view naked men were repulsive. But Mulder was definitely not repulsive. Mulder was...

So why did this fellow not date anyone? He never went further than throwing attractive women desirous looks; mostly so discreet that they didn't even notice. Which added essentially to Mulder's reputation as a crackpot. But Krycek had never thought that Mulder was a nut, and now he even inwardly sided with Mulder. He could understand the man. Those ridiculous pricks who always had to proof their masculinity -Mulder was above that! Krycek remembered a Russian saying: "Fuck or fuck not -you will regret both." Only an idiot would disagree with that.

Maybe he had a relationship with Scully. After all, they stuck together inseparably and trusted only each other. Though Mulder sometimes seemed not to take her serious. Which Krycek considered to be a bad mistake. If annoyed, the squirrel could easily turn into a rapacious lioness. God forbid! She was jealous as a fury and protected Mulder like a hydra. Krycek was afraid of her.

His thoughts about Scully were interrupted by a strange, choking sound. He saw Mulder rolling himself up into a fetal position and burying his head in a pillow. His body began to shake convulsively. He started to scream, pressing his face against the bolster. Krycek needed a few seconds to realize that his partner was sobbing. And a few seconds more that this sight brought an ache to his own chest. And another few that he felt the urge to leave his hide-out and comfort the other man. He had to force himself to concentrate on remaining motionless and keeping quiet.

After what seemed an eternity to Krycek, Mulder stopped twitching and crying. He sat up and wiped his swollen face with his hands. Finally he rose from the bed, muttered a few swearwords, collected the dirty clothes and strolled off into the bathroom. So Krycek took his chance and slinked out of Mulder's apartment. 

At home, he wanted to pass on to other things, but he couldn't get Mulder out of his mind. Why had Mulder's sadness affected him that much? To his dismay, he found only one plausible explanation: He felt for the this man. Fox Mulder's whole-hearted goodness had touched him deep down inside. And his pure and simple honesty had gripped him. It was a kind of honesty that otherwise only could be found in little children. Or in animals.

Alex Krycek knew what that meant. He could never see Mulder as an ordinary assignment again. He had a hard life that had made him a hard man, and he had had no problems treating anyone in a hard way. Until now. His lousy youth came to his mind. God, how he had always longed for a friend like Fox Mulder! Why did the things you need always come to you when it was too late? But maybe it wasn't too late? What if he just disobeyed his boss and told Mulder everything? What if he changed sides? There would be nothing left of him to bury then. They would get rid of them both.

For the whole night and the next day Krycek racked his brain to find a way out. But to no avail. In the shower of his workplace the realization finally hit him. He had to face it. He had played with matches and now he was trapped in the burning house. And the fire within himself was consuming him. He never thought betraying another man could hurt so much. 

End

 

* * *

 

TITLE: Mirrors III - The Motel  
AUTHOR: Lone Gungirl  
E-MAIL: Feedback appreciated!  
RATING: R for angst, language, and homosexual feelings. In other words, if deep emotion, it's intense expression and the love between two beautiful men disturb you, then piss off and see a psychologist instead of making laws that tell people what to read.  
CATEGORY: Story  
KEYWORDS: M/K Slash  
SPOILERS: Every Krycek episode up to Apocrypha.  
ARCHIVE: Anywhere, as long as all headers are intact.  
SUMMARY: Mulder rescues Krycek from the silo. Alternate ending to Apocrypha.  
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, no money. Beyond that, free speech is out there, so fuck you!  
NOTE: If you want to read great M/K slashfic, poetry, TXF humor, etc., visit the site of my friend Araxdelan - she's the queen of slash! My whole series can be found there, too, with a beautiful cover by Mace.  
http://www.members.tripod.com/Araxdelan/

* * *

THE MOTEL

Mulder checked out the area for troop members. He was impatient and nervous. A human can only survive two days without drinking. Since it had to be Krycek's fourth day in the silo it meant he could already be dead. Or dying.

The region seemed to be abandoned and Mulder decided to enter the silo. First he didn't know where to start looking, but then he heard a scream. Krycek was alive. Muffled by a heavy door, the cry sounded like it was coming from far away. Mulder followed the direction. "Krycek, where are you?!!" he shouted. Again, there was the wailing, louder this time. It lead Mulder to a thick door with a big steel wheel. It was easy to open, in spite of it's weight. 

Krycek was lying on the concrete floor, his impulse to squirm restricted by the feeble condition of his body. Not only was he covered with an oily substance, he was also bruised and bloody from desperate efforts to break the shell-proof glass in the door. The dehydration had brought him near unconsciousness. 

Mulder's feelings started to run riot. He hated Krycek so much that he wanted to thrash him, and at the same time he was shocked to see him like this. As Mulder knelt down beside him, Krycek didn't seem to notice. "Alex?" No reaction. Mulder undid the canteen from his belt. "Look, I've brought water for you." A painful moan this time, and a searching movement. 

Mulder's anger vanished at the other's helplessness and a protective reaction kicked in. He popped Krycek up against his chest and helped him to raise the bottle to his lips. "Easy, Krycek, easy, I've brought enough." With a few breaks to catch breath, Krycek had greedily gulped down all the water and let his head fall back in exhaustion. Mulder came to the conclusion that Krycek wouldn't be able to walk or even stand. 

"Listen Alex, we need to get outta here. I'll carry you out over my shoulder and you try not to puke the water down my back, okay?" Krycek answered with a groan that Mulder took as a "Yes".

When Mulder finally dumped his load on the grass by the car, he was glad that Krycek had retained the water. Too early, as it turned out. A split second after the thought had formed in Mulder's brain, Krycek threw up. Mulder sighed in frustration. This was not going to be easy.

Fetching another waterbottle and a rag from the car, Mulder looked down at Krycek. His enemy was finally lying on the ground. Smeared with blood, black grease, and now puke. Looking really miserable. But Mulder felt no triumph. He felt compassion. "Come on, Alex, we have to get fluid into you."

Alex Krycek was so weak that he could hardly think anymore. The pain and the shock of nearly having died from thirst warred with the happiness of being rescued, and being rescued by Mulder. He didn't understand why Mulder treated him without hatred, why his voice was soothing and almost tender, why he pulled him up to sit and leaned him against his chest before he cleaned his face. But he knew that he was safe and that everything would be alright. And when he felt Mulder's gentle hand on his forehead and water in his mouth, he experienced an almost spiritual gratefulness. As soon he was strong enough, he would apologize to Mulder.

"This time we'll wait till your body has absorbed the water. Then we'll get away from here." Mulder sat leaned against the car, with an exhausted Krycek in his arms. And in a strange way, it felt right. 

Mulder didn't know how much time had passed when Krycek was able to crawl into the backseat. He even managed to claw the bottle and protest against the enclosed space. Mulder smiled when he opened the car windows. Krycek seemed to recover.

They were lucky. The motel clerk was an alcoholic and didn't care what state Krycek was in. He only grunted if they wanted two single beds they would have to rent two single rooms. Mulder was relieved there were no irksome questions. Therefore he held back a remark about unserious business practices and accepted a room with a double bed. 

When Krycek saw the bed, he instantly tried to enter it; with all his oil-soaked clothes on. Mulder held him back and Krycek hissed at him like an angry cat. They wrestled a little, then Krycek became resigned and rolled himself up on the carpet. Mulder sat beside him and was pissed and glad all at once. "I'm happy that you are regaining your strength, but do you have to be such a pain in the ass?" He absently stroked a strand of sticky hair out of Krycek's dirty face. 

So how in hell did he get all the filth off the guy? Krycek's circulatory system was still to stressed to simply put him in the bathtub and let him soak. Too much danger that he might collapse. On the other hand, he was in no position to take a shower on his own either. Mulder had to give in to the inevitable. He had to scrub Krycek clean.

After dragging him to the bathroom, Mulder peeled off Krycek's clothes. They were obviously ruined. And under them, there was even more muck on Krycek. To save his own wear from the fate of Krycek's, Mulder stripped himself, too. Then he helped the other man into the tub. He had not planed to follow, but when Krycek laid down and refused to sit up, he saw that staying outside was no option. 

But once he sat in the tub with his former partner propped up against him, it wasn't as bad as he had dreaded. Krycek was handsome and not disgusting at all. Mulder even liked how the other man's body felt under the slick washcloth. He seemed to consist of nothing but elastic muscles under the satin skin, also in places were most peoples bodies grew weak and soft. A warm pulsating began in Mulder's male organs. He blamed it on the hot spray and decided to enjoy it.

Before he reached for the shampoo, he lathered the washcloth up again and put it in Krycek's hand. "I'll wash your hair and you wash your crotch, okay?" Krycek immediately did how he was told. Mulder hoped this attitude would continue.

When Krycek was clean, Mulder rinsed him. And when Krycek leaned his cheek against Mulder's chest and tried to go to sleep, Mulder let him. And put his arms around him. Who would have thought he would one fine day sit in the bathtub with a slick, naked Krycek in his arms? And that it would feel all right?

They stayed like this for a while. Then Krycek was wrapped in a towel, and sat in a corner on the floor. It seemed that all the dirt from Krycek was clinging to Mulder now. So he stepped back into the tub and started his own shower.

Suddenly he noticed that Krycek watched him with big, black fringed eyes. "What?"

"Um ... you know ... I am sorry. I didn't have a choice and I didn't want to do it, but I'm sorry." 

Mulder at first didn't know what Krycek was talking about. But then he was so surprised at the man's apologize that he lost the soap. He didn't know what to say. Krycek didn't seem to expect an answer anyway. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, with a satisfied look on his face. It seemed Krycek was to weak to lie. If not, he was the most rotten heap of crap on the green face of the earth.

After Mulder had put him to bed, Krycek pulled into a ball and nearly disappeared behind the blanket. Mulder looked at the dark tuft on the pillow. Maybe Krycek was innocent - in a way wolves or panthers were. They brought harm, but only because they followed their survival instincts and not because they had evil intentions.

While Krycek slept, Mulder organized a cup of herbal tea with honey and a bowl of light vegetable soup. Krycek woke up just from the smell of it. He nearly jumped at Mulder to get the soup and the tea. Mulder tried to keep him from gulping it down at once, but Krycek was greedy and stubborn. 

The results came quickly. Krycek whimpered and doubled over in pain, pressing his fists against his stomach. Cramps. Iron claws that wrung his guts. They made him pant and writhe. He was ashamed in front of Mulder. But Mulder didn't seem to despise him. He lay down behind him, stroked his arm, and soothed him with that fine, soft voice of his. Soon the cramps were much easier to bear. Finally they subsided, and Krycek drifted into sleep, feeling Mulder's hand on his arm.

When Krycek awoke next morning, Mulder had left him a mild breakfast on the nightstand and gone for a jog. How simple things like getting up without help, taking a piss, eating and drinking could make a man happy... 

The food didn't cause cramps this time, and when Mulder returned, Krycek just sat in bed, glad to be alive. "Hello Krycek. Back to the land of the living?" 

"Yeah, guess so. Mostly. Thanks. My hands still hurt."

"You owe me big time. You've got to tell me what you know." Mulder pulled his sweatshirt over his head. A well shaped torso was revealed over a low clinging sweatpants. 

"Uh, y...yes, okay." Krycek stammered, distracted, while Mulder was seeking his shaving kit. 

Mulder's body was streamlined. It could escape a person's notice how strong his muscles were, his abdomen was flat and gently curved at the same time. That's how he was. Hard and soft, sad and shining bright, sometimes running riot, but always with a loving heart. These antagonisms would have destroyed any other man, but in Mulder's case everything fell perfectly into place. 

Fox Mulder was beautiful.

Krycek startled at the term. Had he become a faggot? As if he hadn't got troubles enough! But so what? He already was an outlaw and people either hated him or didn't give a shit. He could as well get off on pigs and donkeys, it wouldn't change his situation. And he didn't mind. Those squares with their neat little houses who went to church every Sunday and fucked their own children - how he loathed them! If he had developed another attribute that set him apart from them, more the better! 

Mulder was standing between the window and the bed now and Krycek's eyes got fixed at the area between Mulder's navel and hipbone. His skin looked so sensitive there...

Krycek was suddenly overcome by such a longing to touch Mulder, to put his arms around the small of his back and press his face against his belly, that he curled up under the blanket and started a silent prayer: "Listen God, you asshole, you've already made my life a curse, so fulfill at least one of my wishes and give me this man!" He fell asleep to the sound of the shower.

Krycek awoke in the evening. Mulder had arranged a meal for him at the table. Hungry again, Krycek got up, used the bathroom and pulled on some sweats and a tee that Mulder had left for him there. Then he sat down to eat. Mulder had settled on the other chair across the room and didn't say a word. When Krycek had finished, Mulder still didn't speak. 

"What are you brooding about?" 

"I don't understand you, Krycek. Why did you come to my place after you shot my father?"

"To see if you were alright."

"So you admit that you've done it! You kill my dad and then you want to know if I'm alright?! You must be out of your sick mind!!" 

"Yes, I admit it, I killed him! To protect YOU!!"

Mulder's hands trembled. He said nothing, but his eyes asked hundreds of questions.

In a low, hoarse voice, Krycek began to answer. Why it had been easy to get rid of Cole when he seemed to threaten Mulder's life. Why he had made them stay away from Mulder by directing their focus towards Scully. Why he had kept Mulder from arriving on the mountain too early by slaying the tram operator. Why he had taken Bill Mulder to the ground before he could reveal the deadly secrets. Why he had tried to warn Scully about the attempt on her life. Why he had sacrificed his business partner in Hong Kong to make sure Mulder had time to unlock the cuffs.

Mulder was hit by those words like a club. The nausea in his stomach told him that Krycek was not lying. He felt his usual patterns of thinking crack. "Are you saying that you have been caring for me and protecting me?"

"Yes." A rusty whisper. 

Mulder wasn't ready to change his mental system. "But don't you see what you have done? You have committed murders! Don't you feel guilty about that?" 

Mulder's stubborn clinging to his infantile philosophy hurt Krycek and made him angry. "Listen Mulder, if I am a murderer, then you are a murderer, too! You think you are Mr. Lamblike Innocent cause you killed for the law! Didn't you even watch an execution? And if Scully hadn't put a bullet through your shoulder, I'd be in a box six feet deep now! So, Mulder dear, you are a fucking hypocrite!"

"You little shit, don't dear me! I never watched an execution, and I couldn't pull the trigger even I was drugged, don't ask me why, you asshole! Asshole!! ASSHOLE!!!" Mulder stood in the middle of the room and yelled on top of his lungs now. He knew that Krycek had a point, which fueled a helpless fury. 

A neighbour was pounding on the wall. "SHUT UP YOUSELF, YOU STUPID JERK!!!"

"Will you stop screaming, you shithead, the neighbours might call the police!!" Krycek.

"I AM THE FUCKING POLICE AND I FUCKING SCREAM WHEN I FUCKING WANT TO AND NO FUCKING ONE IS GOING TO FUCKING TELL ME WHAT TO FUCKING DO!!! AND YOU ALL CAN ROT IN HELL!!!" With that, Mulder stormed out.

Krycek heard the bathroom door slam shut and being locked from inside. He felt a little helpless. Apparently he had totaled one of Mulder's defense mechanisms. He approached the bathroom door. No sound. "Mulder, you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. I just wanna be alone for a while."

"I'll go to bed, then. I feel exhausted." Krycek stripped and slipped between the sheets. He had tried to explain. If Mulder didn't want to understand, there was nothing left to do. But he wished Mulder would change his mind.

Mulder, sitting on the tiled floor, felt his anger subside. He had been upset because he had run out of arguments to counter Krycek. To be honest, he knew that Krycek was right. He had killed a few people. So had Mulder. To defend others of course, so he didn't blame himself for it. But then he couldn't blame Krycek either, because Krycek had killed to protect him. 

The problem with the whole thing was that he had to admit a disturbing fact to himself. That his own father had endangered his life. And a man who had worked for *Them* had saved it. A man he was fascinated with, because he was like him. He had to face it: The times of easy orientation in a world of black and white were over.

After he had finally stopped fighting the obvious, tears eased the pain and relief started off. Then he noticed feelings that had been hidden under the layer of resentment. Appreciation of Krycek's discreet loyalty. Thankfulness for his protection. A warm sympathy. And the wish to apologize for the blows he had directed at the man.

When Mulder came back into the room, Krycek had already fallen asleep. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted. His head was turned sidewards, exposing his wiry throat. One hand lay on his stomach in a selfprotecting gesture. It slowly moved with his breathing. The blanket covered only his firm legs and narrow hips. 

Mulder tried to look away. But he couldn't take his eyes off him. Krycek was... He tried to suppress the thought, but it was too late. It had already found it's way into his consciousness. 

Alex Krycek was beautiful.

Suddenly Mulder needed fresh air and rushed outside. What was wrong with him? Was he loosing it? No, the edge of sanity felt different. It felt like watching somebody writhe on the floor screaming, while knowing this somebody was himself, but being unable to do anything about it. 

Was he gay, maybe? If he really was queer, he would have to get used to the life of an outcast. It was already hard for him to keep up with the norms of society, but he had managed to succeed at most so far. As a homosexual, he could forget being respected.

But what did "homosexual" mean? In Oxford he had learned about a psychological study. It had said that 36% of all the interviewees had stated at least one sexual contact with the same gender including orgasm. He knew about other studies that had lead to similar results. So being attracted to people of the same sex was in fact normal. The squares with their double standards could kiss his ass! Anyway, he was tired of thinking about it. He was tired of thinking about anything. What he wanted was to lie down beside Krycek and drink the sight of him in.

And so he did. Greedily he filed away every detail. Krycek's skin was so incredibly tender! In particular the spot between his armpit and the tiny male nipple. It looked like silk. It was endearing. HE was endearing.

Before Mulder's mind could consider the pros and cons of such an action, his emotions made him to reach over and slip his arm over Krycek's chest. Krycek stirred, groaned something inarticulate - and wrapped himself around Mulder.

Mulder felt something within him melt. He buried his face in Krycek's fragrant hair and wished that this moment would last forever. It was so good to hold him! All the pressure that usually narrowed Mulder down was gone now. Carefully he began to caress Krycek's back. How hard this body was, even in the relaxed state of sleep. But his skin was reminiscent of velvet. 

Suddenly two green lights flashed at Mulder. "Is it true what you said before?" 

"What?"

"That you weren't able to shoot me."

Hazel locked with emerald. "Yes. And I'm sorry that I've punched you."

Krycek swallowed. Then he clasped Mulder to his chest. "I want you to know something, Mulder. It made me sick to be forced on their side. I don't give a shit about anyone - except you."

The dams bursted and were washed over. They entwined in each other, shaking, hands in hair, legs entangled, cheek to cheek. They melted into one another, no longer two separate beings. Their joy and their pain transformed into a unity. Nothing else mattered. Until sleep ended the silent ecstasy of their souls.

Krycek awoke at dawn. The first thing he saw was the man beside him. Mulder looked like a young boy when he was asleep. So vulnerable. Krycek would do all he could to protect him. At every cost. No matter how hard it was. And now it was especially hard. Because it meant that he had to leave him.

Krycek looked at Mulder's closed eyes. Those beautiful brown, golden sparkling eyes! Krycek's chest ached. 'Hazeleye. I have to go away.' Again, he had no choice than to hurt Mulder. It cut into his own heart like a knife. But there was nothing he could do about it.

When Mulder awoke, Krycek was gone. He had left no message. And he had taken Mulder's spare clothes, his leather jacket, boots, cash and the rental car.

Again. Krycek had done it again. It hurt like hell. And there was nothing he could do about it.

End

 

* * *

 

TITLE: Mirrors IV - The Park  
AUTHOR: Lone Gungirl  
E-MAIL: Feedback always welcome!  
RATING: NC-17 Finally! Cheer and holler!  
CATEGORY: Story  
KEYWORDS: M/K Slash  
SPOILERS: Apocrypha  
ARCHIVE: Anywhere, as long as all headers are intact.  
SUMMARY: Krycek comes to the conclusion that the silo has damaged him.  
DISCLAIMER: Murdoch wants to rule the world, but he can take his money and stuff it into his ass. I'm doing this for love, so I don't care if all the grasping swines make the profit.  
NOTE: The story will make more sense if you read the first three parts of the series. They can be found at http://www.members.tripod.com/Araxdelan/Gungirl.html  
Thanks to Araxdelan, The Slash Queen, for beta and encouragement. Thanks to Mace, Fallen Angel and Lissa, who discussed my writing blocks away.

* * *

The Park

Since Krycek had secretly left the motel, there had not been a single day when he had not thought of Mulder. He just couldn't help it. He knew it was unreasonable to remain in the USA, but he wasn't even able to leave D.C. He felt compelled to stay were Mulder was. Impatiently he awaited the weekends where Mulder didn't go to work so he could watch him.

Usually, Mulder started his spare days with a jog. Krycek loved Mulder's jogging T-shirts with the ripped out sleeves. They exposed his sides, and Krycek could see his muscles move over his ribcage.

When it was raining, Mulder went to the local swimming pool. Krycek didn't dare to follow him there. But he would always remember how incredible Mulder swam. Like a dolphin.

Mulder would go to the park if the weather was fine. Those were the moments Krycek appreciated most. It was such a pleasure to see how Mulder played streetball with the kids and threw sticks for the dogs, like a boy.

Krycek loved Mulder's craziness. He picked up strays from the streets and unnerved Scully until she talked someone from her parish into giving them a home. Once there had been a guy who had molested the children at Mulder's favourite playground - Mulder had caught him and thrown him into a waste bin.

He loved when Mulder was in action, exposing his navel when he jumped for the ball. Or climbing up a tree to rescue a crash-landed kite.

He loved when Mulder was relaxed. He sometimes went to the park with one of his mad books, laid down on the grass in the sun and spaced out. Or took a nap.

He loved the way Mulder dressed. He sometimes wore a green checkered, open shirt with a gaudy orange T-shirt under it. Most men would have had the appearance of an idiot with such shrill colored clothes, but Mulder was excruciatingly cute and sexy in them. At work, he looked like a model with his Armani suits. And his jeans always fit perfectly. God, what a bulge! And the greatest ass one could imagine. And shining eyes. And a heart-shaped mouth. Krycek had never seen such a beautiful man.

How could this fellow still be so isolated? Mulder was winsome, charming, helpful, smart and attractive. People liked him. But when someone signaled interest in a friendship with him, he instantly withdrew. He never socialized any further than playing ballgames or doing sports with people. Sometimes he took the invitation of someone, but that happened very seldom, and Krycek doubted that the person concerned knew what an honour that was. There were times when he was worried about Mulder's hermit life. At other times, he was relieved. In that way, Mulder was only his.

In his head, Mulder was there for nobody but him. These fantasies stunned him. And some of them were rather strange. Mulder naked. Lying back on his couch. With eyes closed. Exposing his delicate throat. Gently shoving his palms over the sensitive skin of his subsided abdomen. Opening his legs. Letting his male organs glide through his hands. Tenderly stroking the penis on his thigh with his fingers. Parting his soft lips while his penis opening appears under his foreskin, red and swollen. His chest heaving when his manhood finally is pulsating on his belly, the cockhead wet and glistening. Mulder begins to massage it, first slowly and thoroughly, then fast and rhythmic. He starts to pant. Then a wave of contortion courses through his body, and his semen begins to spurt. When it is over he barely moves, knees spread, hands resting on his flanks, and waits for his sex organs to loose their over-sensitivity. After a few minutes he wipes them with a T-shirt and rolls over to take a nap.

Krycek usually had to do the same when he gave in to this kind of mental image. And there were other things that started to worry him. He had odd feelings whenever he thought of Mulder. There was a peculiar ache in his chest, sometimes painful and sometimes sweet. He awoke in the middle of the night, unable to fall asleep again. He lost his appetite. He had problems concentrating. Krycek grew more and more certain that the near-death-experience in the silo had done severe psychological damage to him.

He had to visit a specialist for mental illnesses, that was sure. But it had to be one who neither government nor Consortium employees could persuade to break the professional secrecy. Someone really hard. Someone who could laugh death in the face without giving in. Krycek doubted that such a doctor existed. A mind-doctor could only develop such traits if he had survived a longer period where he was in danger to be killed. And members of street gangs or mafia thugs usually didn't practice as psychiatrists. 

But after a few days of brooding, he suddenly had an idea. Israel Warshawski! As a guest instructor at Quantico, he had spoken about the origin of psychosis. Several books about this topic had been written by him. Krycek had been fascinated. The man had already been over 70 years old, with thick white hair and lively grey eyes. It seemed there had been nothing in the human nature that could scare him. When he had rolled up his sleeves, a dark blue number could be seen on his forearm. So that guy had managed to live through a Nazi concentration camp. Which meant that the friendly old man was one of the slyest and toughest survivalists.

Warshawski didn't practice anymore, but Krycek found out his private address. He was nervous when he knocked on the doctor's door one evening, and had prepared a few apologizes. 

After a long minute, the door was opened. "Ah, Mr. Krycek, right? You were such an eager student! How nice of you to visit me!"

The unexpected warm welcome nearly brought tears to Krycek's eyes. "Doctor, I have a problem. I need your help."

Warshawski led his visitor into a room with a big couch and an armchair and invited him to sit down. "So, Mr. Krycek, what's your problem?" 

Krycek was ashamed to speak at first. But once he had found his speech, the words seemed to form by themselves. He admitted it all. That he felt compelled to hide in parks and near playgrounds to watch another man. That he woke up at night and longed for this other man. That he sometimes was so nervous that he forgot to eat all day. That he had problems concentrating. That, often, thoughts of that other man altered his initial line of thoughts. That he even couldn't stop thinking of him time and again. That he had weird feelings in his chest and his belly. And twisted masturbation fantasies. Weren't all those things symptoms of a beginning schizophrenia?

When he had finished, the doctor asked him: "Did you ever feel like this before?"

"No, never."

"Medicine can offer you no treatment." Warshawski said. 

"Am I that sick?"

The white-haired man laughed. "No, Mr. Krycek, you are not sick. You are in love." 

Krycek's eyes went wide. "WHAT?! Are you kidding me?!" But his uneasiness told him that the explanation was correct. 

"Er gloibt mer nesht, der narishe goi!" Warshawski's eyes twinkled in amusement. But then his face turned serious. "Everything is fine with you, believe me. But you have to do something to stay healthy. You have to tell him how you feel about him."

"What?! How can I? It's impossible! He hates me! I've hurt him, repeatedly. I haven't meant to, but I did. He'd spit into my face if I told him."

"The question is not how he will react, Mr. Krycek. The question is: Will you be able to admit the true nature of your feelings to the person who is most important to you? If you suppress the truth, you will choke from the lie."

Krycek knew he would have to follow Warshawski's advice somehow. It was necessary to hide the truth from your enemies when you wanted to stay alive. But he had also seen people die from lying to themselves.

End

 

* * *

 

TITLE: Mirrors V - The Warehouse  
AUTHOR: Lone Gungirl  
E-MAIL: Feedback appreciated!  
RATING: NC-17, though the ones who get off on rape and snuff will be very disappointed.  
CATEGORY: Story  
KEYWORDS: M/K Slash  
SPOILERS: Ascension, The Blessing Way, Tunguska  
ARCHIVE: Everywhere, as long as all headers are intact.  
SUMMARY: Krycek has left Mulder confused. Alternate beginning to Tunguska.  
DISCLAIMER: Although fanfic means promotion for the TV show concerned, I will not demand money from FOX and 1013.   
NOTE: The Story will make more sense if you have read the first four parts of the series. They can be found at http://www.members.tripod.com/Araxdelan/Gungirl.html   
Special thanks to The Slash Queen Araxdelan for beta and teaching me how to format, to Mace for the nice cover to Mirrors IV, Lissa for Tunguska advice, Fallen Angel for constructive criticism, and all those who sent me feedback. You rule, grrrls!

* * *

The Warehouse

Fox Mulder had tried to stop thinking about Alex Krycek since he had returned from North Dakota, but it seemed to be impossible. Time and again, the image of Krycek slipped into his mind. 

The thoughts grew so intense he started to sense Krycek's presence when he was in his favorite park. And he even enjoyed that feeling.

Then he came across a police report. It said that a pimp had beaten up on one of his whores and a passer-by with a black leather jacket, heavy boots, a baseball cap and green eyes had given him a loathing glare. The ponce had called the guy a shitfucking punk who should mind his own business, after which he was punched in the face by the man. The pimp had pulled a knife, but the other man had been armed with a gun and had shot him in the head.The whore had cried and screamed at the gunman, who had told her she was a stupid bitch and disappeared.

Had the shooter been Krycek? Or was it just wishful thinking that he was in DC? No, it couldn't have been just that, because another police report had a connection with an incident Scully had mentioned later. A dealer had decided to get rid of his kittens by putting them in a plastic bag and throwing them in a garbage can. When he had been done, a dark haired, leather clad man had suddenly appeared. He had insulted the dealer in a Slavic language, had attacked him, broken two of his ribs and kicked all the front teeth out of his mouth. A day after the assault had been reported, Scully's mother had found a hamper full of kittens on her doorstep.

It HAD to be Krycek. Or did Mulder have to question his sanity? But there were signs that argued against him having lost it. Signs that were somehow familiar. He knew the warm, bittersweet melting deep inside him. It couldn't be possible. It mustn't be possible! He was IN LOVE with Krycek. With Krycek! His life was already screwed up, and now this. Not only had he fallen in love with a man. Not only had that man done things to him that were unbearable. That man had also made plausible he had done all this for him. And had let him closer than he had ever been to a human being. And then he had left him without a word, after stealing from him. Mulder didn't know what to think anymore, and he became more and more confused. 

And to top that mental chaos, he pictured Krycek in the shower. How his muscles would ripple under the soft skin as he spreads the lather over his body. How he enjoys the spray on his skin. How the hot water running down his front causes his sex to throb. How the red tip comes out from beneath his foreskin. How he inhales deeply, with legs apart, and washes his parts, tenderly rolling them between his foamy fingers. How his marble-like penis stands nearly parallel to his flat belly after he has rinsed himself. How he throws his head back on the tiles, a gurgle emanating from his long throat as he runs his palms firmly over his aching organs. How he whimpers and stumbles against the shower wall, pumping his cock violently. How the whimpers become cries. And how his face contorts to a mask of pain as he ejects his semen, that forms milky bows on the tiles as a sign of male pleasure.

Mulder had never had that kind of masturbation fantasy before. And above all, he had never felt that way when he masturbated. Thinking of Krycek and touching himself reminded him of the times when he had had sex with a woman he was in love with.

X X X 

Scully was worried about her partner. His behavior altered. More and more often he seemed totally out of it. He would pace restlessly, as if he'd climb the walls at any moment, or he would just sit motionless and stare holes into the air - something she had never seen him do before. And she noticed that he hardly ate. 

When she finally asked him what was wrong, he used the f-word on her. ("I'm fine, Scully.") And she couldn't even complain, because it was exactly the way she had driven him to despair countless times before. So she had discarded the matter.

But a few days later, he came to her apartment in the middle of the night, looking rather wrecked. "Scully, I need your help."

She led him to the couch were they sat down together. He seemed to collect all his courage. "I'm in love." 

Scully's breath caught. Then she said: "To be honest, Mulder, I don't know if I should be sad for me or happy for you."

"There's nothing to be happy about. It's a man. And it's even worse." In a desperate tone. "It's Alex Krycek."

After a long silence, Scully finally spoke. Her voice was thin. "How did this happen?"

"I was never interested in men before, I mean ... I don't know, I ... it might have started when ... I once saw him in the shower. I realized that he's like me."

And he told her everything. The words poured out of his mouth like water. She just sat and listened. 

When he was finished, there was silence again. A shiver ran up his spine. He expected the axe to fall within the next few seconds. But when she finally spoke, she said calmly: "You have to tell him that you love him."

Mulder's jaw dropped. He stared at her as if she were an alien. "You can't be serious."

"This is a serious topic, Mulder, of course I am serious."

"But, I mean, you have to hate him with all your heart!"

"If it's true what you told me before, and I don't doubt that because I trust your instincts, then I have to thank him. He has protected you when I couldn't. He has saved your live."

"But he has kept me from arriving on the mountain before you were taken!"

"Thank God. They would have killed you otherwise."

"And your sister? You know they meant you. He may have tried to warn you, but ..."

"I admit that I hate him for that. But I don't know if I have the right to blame him, because he was afraid for his own life. And your feelings for him are a fact. My opinion is you have to take that fact in regard. Talk to him."

"Why should I make a total ass out of myself? It's impossible to have a relationship with him anyway, and he already has made me an idiot. He'd only laugh into my face!"

"And still, Mulder, you have to tell him."

"How can I, he's on the run."

A little smile whisked over her face. "I'm sure the stubborn head of yours will find a way. You have to do it and you know it." 

"Why?"

"Because you have to tell at least one person in your life how you feel about them."

Mulder knew what Scully meant. Every time she had opened up to him, he had chickened out and pushed her back. And she had done the same. Until there had been no chance left. An incredible sorrow for all those missed chances welled up in him. And thankfulness that he still had her though, as his best friend. 

"I want you to know that I'll always love you, Scully, no matter who I'm in love with." 

"I know, Mulder. So do I."

They slipped into a shy, sad embrace. Then they said goodbye, wordless. 

He didn't know how, but he would follow her advice. Because she was right.

X X X 

That Krycek had given the dealer his well-deserved treatment was not much of a problem. The guy was usually not cooperative when searched for drugs, he fought the cops and insulted them. So none of them was eager to find out who had beaten him up. The pimp was a different chapter. The policemen had been allowed to fuck his whores for free and therefore were rather pissed about his death.As much as it unnerved him, Krycek could not stay in the neighbourhood any longer.

And in addition to that, he received information that the Russians had their stinking fingers in something the Americans tried to import. He could guess what all that scum wanted. They wanted to take his brown-eyed beauty away from him - but he would give them a shitload of trouble!

First he didn't know what to do, but then he came across those right-wing idiots and he could make a plan.

X X X

Alex Krycek threw his gun out of the truck window and cautiously climbed out, hands raised. His knees went weak when he saw him. He started to shiver.

Fox Mulder's eyes widened. The festering wound deep in his chest finally broke open, releasing the painful throbbing pressure into a hot, liquid flow. He muffled a wail, the helmet flew aside, and then he jumped at Krycek, throwing his arms around him. 

Krycek stumbled back at the impact, stunned for a short time, before he relaxed and slowly returned the embrace. They shifted position so they could hold each other tighter, while their faces came down into the hollow of each other's necks. Krycek's cap fell to the floor. Oblivious to their surroundings, they held on to each other, clawed at each other as if drowning. Sobs started to shake them. Scully's careful touch and soft voice led them into the warehouse, so the SWAT members would not stare at them.

X X X 

The phone rang and Skinner awoke. "Sir, this is Agent Scully. I have to in form you there has developed a situation with Agent Mulder."

"Is he hurt?"

"Um ... no, but ... can I speak off record, Sir?"

Skinner disconnected the phone when she had ended and rubbed his eyes. He already saw that he would protect Krycek's sorry little ass. Whatelse could he do? Destroy Mulder's chance for a little happiness? No. Certainly not.

X X X 

Scully didn't know if she should be touched or stressed at the picture that presented itself in front of her. Mulder and Krycek were sitting on a crate, still sniffling a little bit, and holding hands. They reminded her of two little boys who had run away from home. She would have to be careful, or she'd soon have another man-child to take care of.

But no matter how pathetic Krycek looked, she had to finish some business with him. She stepped in front of him and slapped him across the face. Hard. "That was for not shooting Cardinal." 

Krycek didn't dare to move. He expected to be gutted by Scully any time soon, but she just turned his back on him and walked out. 

Mulder, who had warily watched the scene, found his speech again. "Serves you right."

"You think she has decided not to kill me?" Krycek asked incredulously.

"At least it appears like that. Even though she'd have any reason to."

Krycek's mouth started to quiver at that again. His gaze dropped to the floor.

"Don't cry, Wildcat, we'll find a way with her. We'll find a way. Everything will be all right. You don't need to run away from me. We will stay together. We can do it. Do you agree with me?"

Krycek looked up into Mulder's face. "Yes."

End


End file.
